Da Capo al Fine
by motorproteins
Summary: Going to college wasn't a thing Inosuke really wanted, but he couldn't argue with the old lady, so he let himself be shipped off, resigned to living with Gonpachirou and Monitsu or whatever the hell their names were. Except maybe things weren't so bad, maybe he did like them, and maybe he went to chamber concerts just to hear Zenitsu play, but that didn't mean anything now, did it?
1. Moving In, Moving On

It still made Inosuke nervous sometimes, being around this many people in an unfamiliar place. He hadn't really wanted to go to college, hadn't wanted to leave the place he'd finally been able to call home, but the old lady had insisted in that voice of hers that always felt like a gentle nudge to his back, so he'd relented and let himself be shipped off into the city. They'd gone there once for a campus tour some number of months ago, but he couldn't for the life of him remember anything they'd seen. It upset him.

He glanced around from under the hood of his sweatshirt, desperately trying to figure out where he was supposed to go. Old Lady Hisa's back had been acting up lately, so he'd boarded the bus - _all by himself_ \- this morning to get to campus, only to find out once he got there that he'd forgotten to bring the map she'd printed out and marked up for him.

It was too late to go back to grab it now, now that he'd been loitering around the dropoff area for around half an hour. His back was sticky with sweat from lugging around his overstuffed backpack, the handle of his suitcase, just large enough to contain all his earthly possessions, unpleasantly slick in his hands. Not that any of that could make him take off the sweatshirt and give up what little shelter he had from the overwhelming crowd of people around him.

After a few more minutes spent walking in vague circles and sweating quietly, he spotted a group of girls around his age accompanied by a couple of adults and trailed behind them across campus. Luckily, they were indeed incoming freshmen like him, and he shuffled into one of the lines at the new student tables, for once waiting his turn.

When he got up to the table, a young woman, probably a few years older than him, smiled at him. There was something slightly off about her expression, but he put it down to his nerves.

"Incoming freshman?"

Inosuke nodded, trying simultaneously to puff himself up and to hide from any further human interaction.

"Welcome to university. What's your family name?"

"Hashibira," he mumbled, shoving his free hand into his pocket.

"Oh." She gave him a look of confusion. "The H's are over there." He followed her finger two tables over, and his face must've visibly dropped because her eyes softened."Don't worry about it. I'll just grab your packet from Hinaka. Given name?"

"Inosuke." She nodded, scribbled his reply down on a sticky note, and got up from her chair to weave her way through the other volunteers to the other table. He watched as she talked to another girl who looked almost exactly like her, growing antsier as the people behind him jostled him.

"Here you go then," she said when she returned with a blue folder. She opened it up and took out an envelope, tapping the number written on the front below his name. "You've been assigned to room 293 in the west dorm. It's a triple, so you'll be living with two other freshmen. The combo to the room is inside here; don't lose it before you memorize it."

She slid the envelope back into the folder pocket and handed it over to him. "You can read the rest of the papers whenever you get a chance. They include lists of places to eat around campus, a couple of maps, useful information like that. Good luck, and don't forget that the convocation ceremony starts at three."

Clutching the folder tight to his chest, he scurried away from the crowd and took a moment to compose himself under a tree, concentrating on his breathing the way the old lady always told him to. Regaining some semblance of his usual confidence back, he took the printout of the campus map from the folder and tried to make sense of where he was supposed to go. To his relief, the route to his dorm was highlighted just like the old lady always did it.

He straightened his back, huffed, and set off, pulling his beat-up suitcase along behind him. If he was going to be stuck with two random other guys for the next year, then he was going to show them that he was the boss and that his word was the one that went around here.

Though it looked old from the outside, covered with crawling vines, the dorm was blissfully air conditioned inside. He tugged off his hood and stood in the entryway, letting the cool air wash over his face. Someone walked by him and did a double take. Inosuke glared in return.

The rooms on the first floor were all numbered in the hundreds, so he wandered around until he found a staircase and dragged his suitcase up, the thumping matching the stomps from his feet. He heard some tittering around him, but he did his best to ignore it, determined not to let his cheeks redden no matter what happened.

His room was at the end of the hall. Unlike the rest of the rooms he passed on the way, it had three, instead of two, pieces of brightly colored construction paper taped to the door, which was at the moment slightly ajar. He squinted at the papers. On one, he recognized his own name in terrible curly handwriting. On the others… He paused. Ken - Tan - Gon? Gonpa. Chirou? Gonpachirou Ka - Kamaboko. What a stupid name. The other was Zen - Mon? Monitsu. Monitsu Aga -

He gave up on the family name and barged in. The black-haired boy inside yelped and dropped a pile of clothing onto the ground. Inosuke's eyes were drawn immediately to the yellow jacket with light triangles patterning that had fallen on the top - he sure wouldn't ever be caught wearing something like that, so his presumed roommate had to be pretty bad at things to even own it. Pathetic.

A quick sweep of the room revealed just how cramped it was, barely able to contain the furniture crammed within it. Between the three desks, two sets of drawers, regular bed, and weird bed-stacked-on-top-of-another-bed, there was just about enough room for one person at a time to move around.

He pointed to top of the bed-stacked-on-top-of-another-bed and proclaimed, "That's where I'll be sleeping!"

The black-haired boy gave him what was probably supposed to be a withering stare. "I already put my stuff up there. Tanjirou wanted the single bed, so you've got the bottom bunk," he said matter-of-factly as he crouched down to pick up his clothing. Inosuke scowled.

"I don't care what you or what's-his-face say. I'm taking that one." Squeezing forcefully past Roommate #1 over his protests, Inosuke climbed up the ladder and set his backpack down on the mattress, tossing the blankets already there down to make room for his own bedding.

"What the hell! Get down from there!" He felt a surprisingly strong grip on his ankle, and before he knew it, he was slipping from his perch, tumbling down onto Roommate #1.

Ah, a scuffle. He knew how to deal with these. He twisted around onto his feet and assumed a low stance, grinning ferally. Words were hard for him sometimes. Fighting had always been the easiest and clearest way to deal with things where he grew up.

To his surprise, Roommate #1 almost immediately began bawling and curled into a ball.

"What's wrong with you? Why're you such an asshole? What'd I ever do to you?"

Inosuke hesitated. The memory of Old Lady Hisa, voice always so gentle, feeble hands trying in vain to pull him away from yet another kid he'd gotten into a fight with, came unbidden to his mind. He could feel her now, trying to pull him away again as he listened to Roommate #1 blubber and curse at him, and he stared, hypnotized by the phantom sensation across his arms.

"Tanjirou! Help me!"

Inosuke snapped out of his trance to find who he assumed was Roommate #2 standing in the doorway, a look of bewildered dismay on his face. Roommate #1 quickly dived behind this newcomer.

"I went out for _two minutes_ to use the bathroom, what in the world is going on?"

"I'm taking that bed," Inosuke said brusquely, pointing to the bed he'd just claimed, "but he won't stop whining and crying about it."

"Zenitsu already claimed the top bunk though," Roommate #2 said, falling deeper and deeper into despair as he began to grasp the situation. His earrings swung as he looked between the two of them several times, the light from the window catching on his burgundy hair.

"Fight me for it then!" Inosuke charged at the two of them. Roommate #1 screamed incoherently and curled up again, but Roommate #2's expression unexpectedly hardened. He caught Inosuke's tackle, stepped to the side, and used their combined momentum to throw him onto the floor of the hallway. Inosuke immediately rolled and bounced back up, balling his fists. Finally, someone who was willing to resolve things his way.

"Please don't fight me! I really don't want either of us to get hurt."

What the hell? Inosuke ignored his plea and ran toward him. Roommate #2 dodged again, but Inosuke anticipated it this time and redirected his punch. It landed, though far weaker than he'd intended. He smirked. First blood went to him.

A crowd of students was starting to gather at the end of the hallway now, curious about the commotion, whispering excitedly to each other. Some had their phones out, and Roommate #2 pointed at them, wincing as he pressed a hand against his ribs.

"Can one of you get an RA instead?" One student lowered his phone and shoved it into his pocket with a sheepish look, then took off down the hall.

Inosuke leapt forward again while Roommate #2 was distracted, but evidently Roommate #2 wasn't as distracted as he seemed because he braced himself for the impact, grabbed the front of Inosuke's hoodie, yelled "I'm very sorry for this!", and smashed his forehead right into Inosuke's.

Someone shined a light into his eyes. He flinched and swatted at the hand holding the offending object. Refocusing his gaze, he looked around himself. He was in some sort of doctor's office, lying in the examination chair. Roommates #1 and #2 sat off to the side. The former was clutching his head and muttering non-stop to himself, the latter sitting quietly with eyebrows furrowed, teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

"Where am I?" he asked. His head hurt. Before the nurse could stop him, he put a hand against the area the pain was radiating from. The center of his forehead was very tender and very warm. Weird.

Roommate #2 shot up from his seat and bowed so low he almost slammed his head onto the ground.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't think I'd give you a concussion!"

"Why're you apologizing to him _again_? And more importantly, how come you didn't get a concussion too?" Roommate #1 glared at the both of them, grinding his teeth together. "I'm gonna get expelled. I can't believe it. Do you know what you've done? I haven't even gone to a single class yet. I haven't gotten to spend long nights working with a cute girl on a group project, I haven't gotten to have a summer fling, and I'm gonna get expelled already. My life is over. Gramps is gonna kill me. All because you guys got me expelled on move-in day."

"What's going on?" Inosuke asked irritably, giving up on deciphering the cryptic statements spouting from Roomate #1's mouth.

"You have a mild concussion," the nurse explained, scribbling something down on a notepad. "It seems you're experiencing some memory loss, so I'm going to start the tests over again. Do you remember your name?"

"Of course I do. This is dumb. I feel fine." Inosuke moved to get out of the chair, and the nurse stopped him warily.

"I can't let you go until we're done. Can you state your name?"

"Inosuke Hashibira," he grumbled, settling back down with his arms crossed.

"Do you know where you are?"

"I _was_ in my room," Inosuke replied, squinting at his roommates, "but Bowl Cut was being stubborn - " Roommate #1 squawked " - and then Earrings came in and…" he trailed off as his memories turned into a sea of fog.

Roommate #2 shuffled his feet and looked down. He definitely had something to do with what was going on right now. Inosuke stared at the red spot in the center of his forehead, right where -

Inosuke's eyes lit up. "You did that with your head?"

Roommate #2 started, then began laughing nervously.

"I have a hard head. It runs in my family. I panicked, sorry. I wasn't sure how else to get you to stop."

"Is that the last thing you remember?" the nurse interrupted, scribbling again. Inosuke screwed his face up in concentration. If he tried really hard, he could push through the fog to recall the fisticuffs, but after that he'd just somehow magically appeared in this interrogation session.

"Yeah. That's really cool! I'm gonna learn how to do it too."

"Do _not_ give yourself or anyone else another concussion," the nurse barked. He rubbed his face and muttered, "Freshmen," but Inosuke was too busy imagining what kind of training routine he'd have to go through to get the same head strength as Roommate #2 had. Maybe running into trees over and over again? Or he could keep headbutting his roommates. The possibilities were endless.

"Inosuke, please focus." The nurse pulled out a stack of cards. "I'm going to say a series of numbers and letters, and I want you to repeat after me, ok?"

"Can I just go instead?"

"No."

Inosuke groaned but submitted to the tests. Half an hour later, he was finally allowed to leave the examination room with his roommates, a follow-up appointment in a week, and a stern warning to take it easy, which was laughable at best. The words "Inosuke" and "take it easy" did not go together.

He squared his shoulders and marched up to Roommate #2, getting right up in his face. The determined set of Roommate #2's eyebrows never wavered, a rather unconvincing affair given the baby fat still on his cheeks, the softness of his jaw and his button nose.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"I'm Tanjirou Kamado. Sorry I made us all miss convocation. And I promise I won't give you a concussion ever again."

"Whatever. You, Bowl Cut - " Inosuke pointed to his other roommate, who seemed in just as foul of a temper now as he had been before finally being convinced that he wouldn't be expelled.

"I have a name too, you know. It's Zenitsu."

"You can have the bed stacked on top," Inosuke finished, kicking at the carpet as he admitted his first defeat in a long while.

"Yeah, no, I don't care. I'm moving out. There's no way I can live with the two of you. I'll literally die if I do." With that, Monitsu did an about-face and stormed off, leaving a bemused Inosuke and a sputtering Gonpachirou.

"Zenitsu, wait!" the latter cried out, taking a hesitant step after him. Tanjirou whipped his head back around to Inosuke. "I'll go talk to him, don't worry. Why don't you unpack first? The room's pretty cramped, so I don't think we'll all be able to do it at the same time. By the way, I heard there's free dinner today. Let's meet up before then? Maybe try to redo introductions."

Inosuke grunted, hooked already by the phrase "free dinner." He supposed that if he _had_ to, he could try and get along with these two. Maybe impress them enough that they'd see they ought to give him the respect he deserved and become his… what was the word he'd picked up the other day? "Squad"?

Boss Inosuke and his minion squad. That was a concept he could get behind. He stretched as he watched Gonpachirou run after Kenitsu, and for the first time since Old Lady Hisa had brought up the concept of him being in college, he felt a sense of excitement for the year to come.


	2. To Set the Bar One Measure at a Time

One month into first term, Inosuke had learned a few things about his roommates, including the following:

First, to absolutely no one's surprise, Zenitsu was not in fact willing to do all the work and jump through all the hoops to get his room reassigned, so here he still was. He hadn't tried to take the top bunk either, and Inosuke sure wasn't about to complain about the vantage point he had from which to survey his tiny kingdom.

Second, Monjirou's goddamn alarm went and was going to continue to go off, for the foreseeable future, at six in the goddamn morning. And then he always had the gall to go for an entire run and start working on his problem sets _days _before they were due. Inosuke wasn't certain he had it in him to beat Kentarou at this game, but hell as if he wasn't going to try.

Third, Kenitsu cried and whined about everything. Inosuke felt himself constantly on the verge of beating him to a pulp, his roommate's crying no longer a comforting reminder of Old Lady Hisa's kind touch but instead another annoyance in his life. Yes, he knew the Chem 1 quiz they just took had been hard; no, there wasn't any need to literally weep over it, not when all of them knew he was going to do fine on it anyway, just like he had somehow consistently been doing on everything no matter how last-minute he started working or cramming.

Lastly, and most frustratingly, no matter what Inosuke did, no matter how many different ways he tried to provoke Tanjirou into another fight, his roommate would never take the bait. Falling asleep on his bed? No problem, he's got a sleeping bag and the floor's comfortable enough anyway with the carpeting, he's not gonna kick Inosuke out if he's that tired. Eating food right off his plate during dinner? Inosuke must be really hungry, he'd be more than happy to get up and grab another serving.

Inosuke interpreted it all as a sign of weakness. Kentarou claimed it was a sign of strength. Monitsu wanted to have nothing to do with any of it.

What Inosuke didn't know, at that one month mark, was what sort of hijinks Zenitsu was willing to rope everyone into for his own self-serving purposes. Regrettably, like all good things in life, this blissful ignorance was about to end.

"Please join my band!"

Tanjirou paused in the middle of reading and gave Zenitsu a Look.

"You have a band?"

"Yes! I mean, I will soon, once you join."

"I'll do it if I get to hit things," Inosuke said bluntly, grateful for a distraction from the math set he'd pointedly started working on when Tanjirou had cracked open the week's Classical Literature reading.

"Uh, if you can hold a steady beat, I don't see why you couldn't be our drummer," was Monitsu's hesitant reply. He wrung his hands and looked toward Monjirou for his answer.

"I don't think I have the time," he said slowly. "I'm trying to see if they'll give me extra shifts at Quad Cafe so I can send some money home to Nezuko. I want her to get a new coat for the winter."

A few weeks ago, the three of them had managed to rearrange the furniture and free up some space. To do so, the two with ground-level beds had given up their chairs and committed to sitting on their beds while working at their desks. Not to be outdone, Inosuke had shoved both his chair _and_ his desk into storage, opting instead to do his work on the floor the way he was used to.

Unfortunately, that meant he now had to dodge Chuuitsu's agitated pacing, frantically gathering up all the sheets of paper strewn across the floor to prevent their untimely destruction at his hands… feet.

"But, think of how popular we'd be!" Zenitsu cried, the desperation painfully obvious in his voice.

Kentarou's Look evolved into The Look. Inosuke, too, was once again _this_ close to giving one or both of his roommates the best concussion of their lives.

"Is this your latest attempt to get a date? Have you even looked at the chem set due tomorrow?" Tanjirou asked, ever the worried parent.

Monitsu waved his hands impatiently. "Look, even if either of those questions were valid - which they're definitely not - I'm doing this because I've been missing music, okay? I used to play for Gramps all the time back home, but now that I'm here there's just you guys," he said, inflecting the last two words as if there were something terribly wrong with the situation.

"In that case," Gonpachirou trailed off and tapped his pencil against his chin. "I don't know how to play any instruments, though. I could dance if you wanted? My dad taught me this traditional dance that's been passed down in our family since we were charcoal sellers."

"Dancing? What about singing instead?"

"You know what, that sounds kinda fun," Tanjirou said, eyes lighting up. "I thought you'd want to be the singer though? Aren't they usually the face of the band?"

"Well, we need a guitar or a keyboard or something like that, and if I'm the only one who knows how to play anything, then it can't really be helped." Decisions finally made, Zenitsu let out a sharp sigh, the stress leaving his body like air out of a popped balloon.

Inosuke rolled over onto his back, head coming to a rest by Chuuitsu's feet. From this angle, his face looked even funnier than usual, a hint of a flush still on his cheeks from his earlier distress. Where did all these weird ideas come from? What sorts of cogs turned in that head of his, churning out incomprehensible impulses and emotions?

"So, what's the band name going to be?" Monjirou asked, humming to himself.

"Let's have a vote later. Any suggestions?"

"Boss Inosuke and His Minion Squad!" Inosuke shouted immediately, sitting up excitedly. His math set was now well and truly forgotten, the pages of his proofs all shuffled out of order and hastily shoved into the nearest binder.

"No! What's that even supposed to mean!?" And, just like that, all the stress made its way back, sending his hair flying in all directions and his hands waving wildly.

Sometimes Inosuke marveled at his own ability to rile him up without any conscious effort. If Zenitsu were going to ask everyone to make his dream a reality, it seemed reasonable that he should help make their dreams a reality too. But, that didn't seem to be the same logic he operated under, and part of Inosuke - the part that the old lady had spent so long trying to nurture out of him - wanted to give up on niceties and assert his dominance with his fists.

"When are we practicing? I want to finish my reading first," Tanjirou interrupted, attempting as always to redirect their attention away from an argument. Inosuke grumbled, denied yet another opportunity to get under Monitsu's skin, but he dropped the topic and flopped back down onto the ground to stare at the ceiling, thinking about everything except the convergence of series.

"Oh, I have to figure out how to book a practice room, so let's say Friday after dinner? By the way, can you guys help me on the chem set."

The light left Kentarou's eyes. Aha. Zenitsu definitely hadn't started the set that was sitting complete, though very messy, somewhere in one of the drawers that had been allocated to Inosuke. Yet another reason why his roommate should accept him as the boss.

"Fine, let me know when you've had a chance to look over everything and try all the questions first. Inosuke, would you also be able to help him too? Since you've finished it already and he hasn't."

Puffing his chest out, Inosuke haughtily agreed that he would do his best to aid the ever recalcitrant Chuuitsu, who angrily insisted that that was _not_ his name, they've lived together for a whole month already, what's wrong with him. Inosuke hit back with a "do you want help on the set or not, Chuuitsu," to which Zenitsu conceded with a quiet "yes," and the room settled back into comforting routine.

Maybe he could get used to this.

* * *

The music department was tucked away in a far corner of campus, a fact that Zenitsu would not stop griping about as Unnamed Triple Band made its way over after the day's unsatisfying cafeteria dinner. Around this time of year, the air was starting to get chilly, the once welcoming breeze taking on a hint of a bite. Monitsu had started wearing his ugly yellow jacket, which at least made him easy to pick out in a crowd, but that didn't fix the fact that Inosuke hated it.

"How're we supposed to practice with no instruments?" Inosuke asked, kicking at the fallen leaves on the sides of the walkways. They crunched satisfyingly under his feet, and he imagined himself a giant, obliterating all that dared to stand in his way.

"There's stuff in the practice room. Not in the best condition, obviously, but still usable. If we get really serious about it, we can probably rent or buy used instruments from the store downtown."

Inosuke blinked. Zenitsu had a spring in his step he'd never seen before, a crackling sort of energy about him that made the hairs of Inosuke's arms stand on end. Whatever this was, it was a welcome change from his usual high-strung self.

They rounded the corner of a parking structure, and lo and behold, there stood the promised music building. The architecture was unimpressive, all squat and rectangular, but the walls were covered with colorful murals that gave it vibrant life. Zenitsu swiped his ID at the front entrance, and the door unlocked with a pop. He ushered them inside and through a confusing series of turns to their final destination.

The final destination being a dingy practice room, its cheap vinyl flooring scuffed, one of the ceiling lights flickering sporadically. There was a beat up percussion set in the center, two electric guitars in the corner, and a digital keyboard resting on a rickety stand. The thermostat was turned up unpleasantly high. Tanjirou shucked off his jacket and fiddled with the dial.

"Alright, let's see what you've got," Zenitsu chirped, clapping his hands together sharply and all but bouncing off the walls. "You wanna start, Tanjirou? I need to get a sense of your vocal range, so just sing whatever you want."

Kentarou nodded enthusiastically, radiating even more vim and vigor into the room. Inosuke found himself getting amped up too, falling into their infectious spirit. He made himself comfortable on the floor by the door as Tanjirou closed his eyes and took a deep breath to hype himself up.

Unfortunately, despite the passion that Tanjirou was clearly putting into it, the sounds that came out of his mouth could only be likened to those made by a medium-sized animal subjected to a tremendous amount of physical pain, which Inosuke felt was incredibly unfair given that the noise was making every atom of his body wish it weren't in its current configuration. Zenitsu's demeanor likewise did a complete one-eighty. Apparently unable to decide whether he wanted to cover his face or his ears, he settled for assuming the fetal position by the guitars as Tanjirou, oblivious to the effects of his singing, trucked bravely on.

After what seemed like an eternity, the song finally came to an end on cracked note whose demise was dragged on far longer than was humane. Inosuke shuddered and glanced over at Zenitsu, whose eyes had taken on a hollow, glazed over look.

"You're not singing," he said flatly. Gonpachirou's face fell into a pout, but Zenitsu was having none of it this time.

"You." He pointed to Inosuke. "You're next. If you disappoint me, I'll skin you both alive."

For the first time since they'd met each other, Inosuke felt a stab of primal fear as he looked into the empty abyss of Chuuitsu's gaze.

"Anything he can do, I can do better!" he boasted, trying to muster up his usual bravado to cover up the tremor in his voice.

"He can't. That's the point. Are you saying you're gonna do worse than him? You wanna end up in a dumpster somewhere?"

Well, this certainly wasn't a Zenitsu he liked. He hesitated, feeling the unfamiliar and unpleasant flight part of his fight or flight response. The door was so tantalizingly close. He could just rush out and trust his instincts to somehow make his way through the maze of the building. There was no way Zenitsu could be that much faster or that much less lost than he was, right?

One look at Zenitsu's face told him all he needed to know.

"Let's light up the lantern / And give some peach flowers to everyone," he started hesitantly, uncomfortably aware of every part of his body, unsure what to do with his hands, eyes still flicking between Monitsu and the door. Zenitsu's eyebrows scrunched together, but he made no move to either stop Inosuke or skin him alive and toss his body in a dumpster. Emboldened, Inosuke continued with the song he'd dredged up from a dim memory.

There was nothing but silence when he finished, which at that point could have meant two polar opposite things. Frankly, he wasn't positive he wanted either outcome.

"So, uh, how was that?" he finally asked, shuffling his feet.

"Absolutely terrible. I'm amazed how tone-deaf _both_ of you are. I'm curious, though," Zenitsu said, tilting his head, "why you picked a traditional song instead of something more modern."

Inosuke scowled. "It was all I could think of, okay? The old lady's hearing isn't good, so she never plays music around the house. Basically everything I've heard has been from those festivals she used to take me to when I was a kid. I could barely even remember how that one went."

Kenitsu squinted at him. "How do you just, not listen to music?"

"Easily."

The answer prompted a round of exasperated ranting, gesturing (some of it rude), and pacing back and forth, but at least there wasn't any real anger behind any of Zenitsu's actions anymore. In fact, Inosuke almost got the sense that Zenitsu felt bad for him somehow, and it made him antsier than the alternative. He didn't want pity, least of all from a crybaby like him.

"Is that it for Unnamed Triple Band then?" Tanjirou asked, crestfallen.

"What other choice is there?" Zenitsu snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. He looked just about ready to complain more but then unexpectedly paused. The corner of his mouth tightened and his eyebrows furrowed as he looked off to the side, away from them both. He continued, quieter, "Thanks for trying, though. I've never had friends who'd humor me like this before."

Inosuke didn't know why, but he had the sudden urge to wrap his arms around Zenitsu. And not even in an I'm-going-to-squeeze-the-life-out-of-you-for-saying-the-f-word way. Just gently, like Old Lady Hisa had done when everything used to overwhelm him as a kid.

Two things came to mind at that point:

First, this place, these people, were making him soft.

Second, was that really such a bad thing?

Ah, while he'd been wasting time having _thoughts_ of all things, Kentarou had stolen his thunder. That wouldn't do. Gingerly, he stepped forward and hugged both of them, then tightened his embrace to prove he wasn't losing his edge. Something intense, like electricity, ran through him at the contact.

And something warm, like a carefully planted seed, grew its roots deep in his chest.


	3. Expansion Pack

For once, Tanjirou was the one unable to focus. Every time his phone buzzed, he'd dive for it and type away at it for far too long. Come on, texts were supposed to be short, not whatever paragraphs of lectures or whatever he was sending. Inosuke had half a mind to toss the phone out the window of the second-story study room they were currently in, never mind the fact that the window was currently shut against the winter chill, a little glass never got in his way when he really set his mind to something.

He glanced back at his notes from class. Something about predicting crystal lattice structures from ionic radii and packing efficiencies. He only remembered the lecture at all because upperclassmen had arrived in droves to play some sort of drinking game, giggling every time the professor had said the word "lattice." Which had been very often. He'd been able to copy down everything written on the board, but none of the content had actually wound up in his brain thanks to all the added distraction.

"Alright, so, you have two elements, right? And basically, the difference between their sizes means they'll pack together in a specific way because they want to be close to each other but not too close. You know, the way you want to sit at the same table as a cute girl but you don't want to sit right next to her because you just pulled an all-nighter and also haven't showered in three days."

On any normal day, that kind of explanation would have constituted a concussionable offense. But, this was one of the miraculous weeks in which Zenitsu had finished his work early and was finally paying Inosuke back for his help throughout term, so for better or worse there were no concussions to be had that day.

"Yeah, I get that part, it's just - " Tanjirou's phone buzzed again. This time Inosuke's reflexes were quicker, and he slapped his hand over it before Tanjirou could snatch it up.

"I'm throwing this out the window," he declared, shooting up from this seat, fully prepared to launch it directly into the sun.

What he wasn't expecting was for Tanjirou to straight up tackle him, landing with him in a messy heap on the floor. Inosuke squirmed out of his grip and gave him a quick jab in the ribs with an elbow for good measure. He scrambled up only to immediately face plant as Tanjirou latched onto his ankle and pulled.

Wow. If he'd known two and a half months ago that this was all it'd take to get his roommate to fight him again, he would've had a much more interesting time. Alas, at the moment, all he wanted was to get his last ever Chem 1 set done with before the deadline in two hours.

"Wait!" Tanjirou cried out as Inosuke tossed his phone to Zenitsu, who fumbled and barely managed to catch it. "I'm just helping people with physics!"

"The buzzing _is_ getting kind of annoying," Zenitsu admitted, setting the phone face down on Tanjirou's notebook. "Why don't you invite them here to work instead? We can definitely fit more people. It's a lot bigger than our room, after all."

To everyone's surprise, including his own it seemed, Tanjirou's face turned bright red.

"I uh – it's just easier to, I don't know, don't you think, um, it's kind of easier to explain things over text?"

"Bullshit. Why won't you ask them to come over? Are you embarrassed by us?" Zenitsu pointed an accusatory finger at Tanjirou, whose face contorted painfully, eyebrows pulling upward, lips peeling back to reveal clenched teeth. His entire body trembled.

"No, you do not embarrass me at all," he finally managed to choke out, unable to meet either of their gazes.

"You filthy liar! Just bring them here!"

Tanjirou sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, but at least his features returned to a normal human expression. "Fine. But, you have to promise not to be weird about it, okay?"

"Me? Weird!?"

"Yes. You. Weird," Inosuke snapped, rubbing the sore spot on his chin. He got back up again and plopped down in his chair, sullen, paying no heed to Zenitsu's indignant sputtering. "Can we hurry up and get this done? If I fail, it'll be your fault."

His roommate gave him an absolute earful for that, albeit an earful interspersed with helpful clarifications and textbook pages to reference. Inosuke tried his best to keep up with the relevant info and filter out the rest of what was coming out of Zenitsu's mouth, which was mostly self-serving garbage. Left in peace to himself, Tanjirou went back to tapping away at his phone, glancing back up at the two of them every so often.

"They're at the front desk now. I'm gonna go get them," he said after a few minutes, stuffing his phone into his pocket. "I'll be back soon."

"Do you think it's his secret girlfriend?" Zenitsu mumbled as the door closed. He slumped forward, arms splaying out, cheek coming to a rest on the surface so he could look at Inosuke through his lashes. "Or maybe boyfriend? You think that bastard's lucky enough to be dating someone already? He'd tell us, right? We're his friends."

"I really don't care," Inosuke replied irritably, the f-word still putting him on edge. "What'd you get on 5a? I don't think my answer makes sense."

Zenitsu grumbled but pulled out his set and flipped through a few pages to the problem in question. Their answers were indeed different by several orders of magnitude. Inosuke growled in frustration, scribbling out his answer and slouching down in his seat.

"No, come on, walk me through what you did," Zenitsu said, scooting his chair next to Inosuke's.

Groaning, Inosuke submitted himself to the mortifying ordeal of allowing Zenitsu, of all people, to tell him he was wrong about something. Anything so he could finish his assignment and not fail this class. He didn't even know what he'd do if he had to face Old Lady Hisa and tell her he'd gotten kicked out already. Not after everything she'd done for him, not after all her endless encouragement every time he'd felt like nothing but a pathetic nobody from the mountains.

"Okay, I see the problem. You should go over the section on page 139 about d orbitals again."

"_You_ should go over the section on page 139 again," Inosuke shot back, scrolling down the definitely legally-obtained PDF of the textbook he had open on his laptop.

Zenitsu opened his mouth for some probably uninventive retort but was cut off as Tanjirou threw the door open, two other students in tow. The first was a girl with her dark hair pulled into a single ponytail on the side of her head, an elegant butterfly clip holding it in place. She was smiling slightly, absentmindedly, as if she were remembering something amusing someone had said to her a long time ago.

Inosuke didn't even have to glance at Zenitsu to know he had a disgustingly lovestruck look on his face.

And the other person… What the hell? Being tough was Inosuke's shtick, and now Tanjirou was bringing in some scowling guy who was taller and buffer than he was with both a mohawk and a (pretty cool, maybe somewhat intimidating) facial scar? He was going to have a stern word with his roommate later.

"Inosuke, Zenitsu, these are Kanao and Genya," Tanjirou said, gesturing to each person in turn. "Inosuke and Zenitsu are my roommates. Kanao and I are taking Bio 8 together, and Genya and I met because we were the only ones who went to Tuesday's math office hours."

"Tuesday?" Inosuke repeated, incredulous. "Why would you go to office hours the day the set's released?"

"Why the fuck _wouldn't_ you go?" Mohawk snarled defensively. Inosuke bristled.

"How about ditching these testosterone-fueled idiots and studying together somewhere peaceful instead, Kanao?" Zenitsu offered, resting his chin in one hand in what was probably an attempt to be suave. Tanjirou's eyelid twitched, and he mouthed something Inosuke guessed was "don't be weird" because that was exactly the sentiment on his own mind.

"Oh. No thanks. I'm not interested," Ponytail said sweetly, setting her bag down by the seat farthest away from Zenitsu. "Tanjirou tells me you're quite bad at physics."

"Tanjirou!"

"Well, there was that one time you were convinced that force equals mass times the speed of light squared," Tanjirou reminded him, pulling the chair next to his out for Tanya, who inexplicably hesitated with an almost panicked expression before accepting it.

"Okay, in my defense, I was on two hours of sleep and three cans of coffee."

Inosuke sensed another long-winded tangent incoming and slammed his fist on the table to get Zenitsu's attention. Everyone except Koana jumped.

"D orbitals!" he roared, garnering stares from around the table. "How do they work?" he finished at a normal indoors volume.

Zenitsu rolled his eyes but reluctantly tore his focus away from Manao and redirected it at Inosuke and his half-finished chemistry set. The next hour and a half was spent on increasingly desperate attempts to ensure he finished with enough time to run to the turn-in box, Zenitsu very unhelpfully threatening to ditch him and turn his set in at one point. A threat that, to Inosuke's shameful relief, was never made good on.

As much as he was fed up with hearing Zenitsu's voice by the end, he had to admit that he probably would've just given up long ago had he been left to his own devices. There was something to be said about studying in a group. And, maybe, about having fr- frie-

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't complete the word in his head.

"Alright, let's go!" Zenitsu said, slapping his back as they finished checking answers with each other. He turned to the other three currently poring over the physics set. "You guys already turned yours in?"

Taking their nods as a green light to get going, he pushed Inosuke impatiently toward the door, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair on the way out. They earned their fair share of glares as they tore through the library and out into the incoming evening, but also their fair share of sympathetic looks. Everyone knew that sometimes you had to do what you had to do.

The only thing on Inosuke's mind during the whole time, however, was awe at how ungodly fast Zenitsu could sprint. He had to use everything he had in him to keep up with his uncharacteristically determined roommate as they zigzagged through campus, dodging the occasional frisbee or novice biker.

They made it to the drop box with five minutes to spare. Inosuke's set, which he was just now realizing hadn't been stapled together, was a crumpled mess. Zenitsu's wasn't in much better condition.

"Just write your name on all the pages and fold the corner a few times," Zenitsu said, panting, as he shoved his work into the slot for Chem 1. "And hurry up! I think I see one of the TAs."

"No pencil," Inosuke gasped, lungs heaving for air. He smoothed out the papers as best he could and followed the latter part of the suggestion. In went his set, and out went his nervous energy.

His calves burned.

"Well, that's one thing we'll never have to do again," Zenitsu said, laughing. He collapsed onto the ground. "Let's take a break and then head back soon. I'm getting hungry."

Inosuke grunted in agreement, unwilling and unable to put in the effort needed to say more. They sat together silently as the clock ran down to five o'clock. A few more of their classmates barely managed to squeeze their sets in before the TA collected everything, accepting the last of them on his way out.

"Oh."

At the sudden sound, Inosuke looked up from the game he had been mindlessly playing on his phone. He followed Zenitsu's stare to a lone figure walking over to one of the benches some ways away.

Zenitsu tensed up. Intrigued, Inosuke squinted at the mysterious figure to try and make out its identity. It seemed to be a lanky guy with choppy black hair, wearing some sort of charm strung through a simple necklace. The accessory was distinctive enough that Inosuke was certain he'd never seen the guy before.

"You should head back. I'll catch up in a bit," he said, getting up and dusting himself off. Inosuke watched as he jogged over and waved his arm, the name he called out made indistinct by the wind and distance. Necklace shouted something back, though with a hard edge to it, and smacked away Zenitsu's hand when he reached out.

Curiouser and curiouser.

But not curious enough to keep him waiting in the growing darkness by himself with no jacket and an empty stomach. He picked himself up and walked briskly back to the library, where he found the three they'd left behind giggling over a video on Tanjirou's phone instead of working. Or, in Genta's case, frowning just ever so slightly less. Still trying to keep up his tough guy act, huh.

"Look what Nezuko sent me," Tanjirou wheezed, turning the screen to face him. It was a compilation of cats doing what were probably supposed were funny things - walking on two legs, attempting to leap onto things but missing, flipping out over cucumbers, the whole works.

Frankly, Inosuke wasn't impressed. He too could walk on two legs, fall on his ass like a fool, and jump two feet into the air in front of a cucumber.

"Well, at least they look cute when they do it," Kanao remarked when he demonstrated his abilities and pointed out that _he_ wasn't uploading videos of himself on the internet for strangers to see. Inosuke didn't understand why Kenta found that so funny, but it sure pissed him off.

"We should get dinner soon," Tanjirou said after successfully prying them away from each others' throats. "Where's Zenitsu?"

"I don't know. He told me to go ahead and then ran off and got into a fight or something."

"A fight?" Tanjirou asked, concerned now.

"Like I said, I don't know," Inosuke said irritably. Trust Zenitsu not to be there when the hard questions were asked. "The guy didn't look very happy to see him, okay? Can we just go eat already?" As if to prove his point, his stomach rumbled loudly.

Tanjirou sighed. "Let's wait a couple more minutes before heading over to the dining hall. I'll message him."

Of course, Zenitsu chose that exact moment to throw the door open dramatically and shamble his way back into the room. He didn't look like he'd gotten into a fight, but he sure was acting like he'd just lost one.

"Are you okay?" Tanjirou asked, looking him over, his phone forgotten in his hand.

"Let's get dinner," Zenitsu said glumly, shoving his laptop into his backpack.

"O-okay."

The rest of them packed up in an awkward silence, some concern even finding its way onto Genya's face. Inosuke's scowl deepened.

The walk over to the dining hall was just about as pleasant as the food was. Zenitsu picked at the overcooked chicken on his plate, the leaves of his sad, limp salad pushed off to one side and ignored. The rice was dry enough that he'd also given up on trying to eat that after a few bites. No one else at the table, save Tanjirou, seemed much happier about the meal.

"So," he said with a smile, "I was thinking we should all study for finals together since we're mostly in the same classes anyway. Five brains are better than three, right?" He nudged Tenya, who was sitting next to him.

"Yeah, whatever," Zenitsu mumbled, nibbling on another piece of "food." His nose wrinkled in disgust. "You know, I keep thinking it can't be as bad as I remember, but then every bite really exceeds my expectations."

"That's a plan then?" Tanjirou asked, glancing excitedly between the four of them. Moana nodded as Inosuke and Danya both shrugged, indifferent. "Let's meet up in the same study room Monday at nine?"

"_Nine_?"

Finally given something stupid to freak out over, Zenitsu returned to his usual energetic self. Inosuke relaxed the muscles he hadn't realized he'd been tensing, letting the sounds of his roommates' voices wash over him as they haggled over the start time. He stabbed a chunk of chicken and steeled himself to chew on the rubbery meat. Given his upbringing, he wasn't normally one to be picky about food, but all he could do at the moment was think wistfully of the delicious tempura Old Lady Hisa always made for him on the weekends. Only a little more than two weeks and he'd be (temporarily) freed from this hell.

He tuned back into the conversation as Konoa, who had miraculously managed to eat her entire plate clean, flipped a coin and jumped in on Tanjirou's side. Zenitsu immediately caved like the sad, smitten idiot he always was around girls. Yet another tick of his that Inosuke didn't understand.

"Fine, ten o'clock then," Zenitsu pouted, arms crossed. "But if I die because I didn't sleep enough, you'll know who to blame."

"More like we'll know who to thank," Inosuke snorted, reaching across the table to steal a tomato from Tanjirou. It was, unfortunately, just as disappointing as the ones in front of him.

"My ghost is gonna haunt you forever."

"Bold of you to assume I couldn't beat up a ghost," Inosuke replied. He ate a piece of chicken off Zenitsu's plate. Yep. Just as bad as everything else. He wasn't entirely sure what he expected at this point, to be honest.

"If that's it, I'll be going back to my room now," Kanao said, observing them with her unreadable smile. Zenitsu's face fell as she picked up her bag, waved, and headed out of the dining hall, which was noticeably less crowded than it had been at the beginning of term.

"I should get going too," Tanjirou remarked, checking the time. "I'm gonna find somewhere quiet to call Nezuko, so I'll see you guys in a bit."

That left Inosuke in the company of one guy who was way too different from him and another who was way too similar. He decided he was full enough and gave up on the remnants of his meal.

"Let's go," he said, getting up and tugging on the back of Zenitsu's jacket. Zenitsu made a noise of complaint before apparently realizing there was no reason to stay. He gathered up their plates and silverware to return at the front, saying a quick goodbye to Genya, who was steadfastly attacking his food.

Inosuke did not say goodbye. Genya did not say goodbye back. Zenitsu was the only fool here.

"Actually, I need to run an errand too," Zenitsu said as they stepped into the freezing night. His eyebrows were beginning to scrunch together again, the worried frown creeping back. "Is tomorrow still good to check answers for physics?"

Inosuke shrugged. "Works for me," he replied, tugged his hood up. Zenitsu nodded and jogged off in the opposite direction of their dorm, his untied shoelace trailing behind him and just begging to be tripped on.

Standing there in the dark, the wind showering him with dead leaves, Inosuke suddenly felt self-conscious. There had been people around him all day, jabbering away in his ear, trying to pick fights with him, watching him with incomprehensible smiles, and now there was just him, alone, shivering in the cold. The first couple of weeks he'd been here, he would've given anything to get this time to himself, a peaceful break from the antics everyone else inevitably got him into. Now, it just seemed like something was missing.

He made a face and pulled on the strings of his hoodie. What an unpleasant emotion this was, whatever it was. Was is not already bad enough that his thoughts of the old lady were tinged with tenderness? Was it really necessary to feel disgustingly vulnerable around even more people?

His instincts said no. Some other part of him disagreed.

Whatever. He'd used his brain enough already. This question could be left for another day, another Inosuke. He turned and headed back toward his room, to _their_ room, to the second place in the world he was beginning to call in his head "home."

* * *

Chapter illustration can be found on my Tumblr (cheesecake12) post/189340997102


	4. Dyeing for Your Heart

This absolute bitch of a situation Inosuke found himself in was the exact opposite of the "fun" that Zenitsu had promised when dragging him out to this party. Or whatever the hell was supposed to be going on here. Between the loud music and flashing lights, he could neither recognize a single person there nor hope to. He was told food existed somewhere but couldn't find it. The whole place smelled strange - in a bad way - and people kept bumping into him when he did _not_ want to be touched.

Worst of all, Zenitsu had fucking up and left him as soon as they'd gotten there.

He wandered around the perimeter of the courtyard, forcing himself to focus on the decorations and not on the crowd of people around him. There was a massive paper dragon suspended between two trees and lit up from the inside by color-changing lights, which was kinda cool, but definitely not cool enough to make up for Everything Else that was currently happening.

He thought he heard someone call his name, but when he pushed his way over to the place it'd come from, there was no one there. No one he knew, at least. He pulled out his phone and messaged _were the hell ru_. Not that he expected a response.

It was probably fine for him to just leave, right? Zenitsu didn't need a goddamn babysitter to look after -

There he was, in that ugly bright yellow jacket of his. Inosuke elbowed a few people out of his way, stepped on some toes, and finally found himself in Zenitsu's general vicinity for the first time since arriving. Zenitsu was talking animatedly and practically bouncing up and down. He had a red cup in one hand that was almost certainly empty, judging by his wild gesticulations. Inosuke couldn't make out any of the one-sided conversation, but the other person certainly didn't seem very emotionally invested in it.

Oh. It was that guy with the necklace again. He'd really had enough of that guy and Zenitsu's weird obsession with him.

Inosuke's insides felt a little bit like something was gunking them up, which definitely couldn't be the case because there wasn't anything in the world physically stronger than his stomach. It must've been nerves from the crowd and all its noise, like sharp nails raking across his face. He pushed forward again to grab Zenitsu and hightail it home.

Zenitsu bumped his elbow against Necklace's right as Inosuke was about to shout his name as loudly as possible. Necklace jerked away and snarled something at him, and Inosuke could see his body crumple inward as the guy stalked away. But that _idiot_, that _moron_ of a roommate of Inosuke's doggedly followed and never once glanced in Inosuke's direction. His name died in Inosuke's throat.

Fine. Inosuke turned and stomped angrily all the way back to their dorm, throwing the door to their room open hard enough that it rattled the drawers when it slammed into the wall. Tanjirou let out a startled yelp.

"Oh, you're back early," he remarked, clutching his chest, as Inosuke flung himself onto Zenitsu's bed. "How was the party? Did you have fun?"

"Party sucked," Inosuke said, burying his face in Zenitsu's pillow. It smelled vaguely floral. The synthetic fiber of the comforter was cool against his skin, vastly inferior to the warm, comforting embrace of his own worn out blanket, the one embroidered with his name that he'd apparently had since he was a baby.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Tanjirou said with a frown. It was a stupid thing to say, Inosuke thought, but what was infinitely worse was the fact that he definitely meant it, as if he were the roommate at fault for the terrible experience and not Zenitsu. Inosuke himself never apologized for anything that wasn't his own fault, and sometimes not even for things that _were_ his fault, if he didn't see why he should.

He itched for a fight, so he gave Zenitsu's pillow a good, solid punch as Tanjirou looked on with a furrowed brow.

"That bad?"

Inosuke grunted in response, turning away from his roommate and pulling out his phone to check his texts again. Nothing. Well, there was the one text he'd gotten in the afternoon from the old lady asking him how his week had been. Now that it'd been brought back to his attention, he responded to it.

"Where's Zenitsu?"

"I dunno," Inosuke grumbled, closing his texts and opening one of the mobile games on his phone. It took too long to load, so he exited out of it impatiently. "Maybe he died."

"He died!?"

"Maybe!"

Which just led to a discussion about Zenitsu's whereabouts that wasted even more of Inosuke's precious time. He fumed silently as Tanjirou returned to whatever he was doing on his computer. When his other roommate came back, Inosuke was going to beat him up and make him apologize.

By the time Tanjirou asked if he could turn the lights off, though, Zenitsu still hadn't returned. His mood too sour to try doing work or playing games, Inosuke was also beginning to drift off and didn't protest when the room went dark. The little nest he'd made on Zenitsu's bed was warm and comfortable now, and his eyelids were very heavy. He set his phone face-down next to him and decided he'd rest his eyes for a second. Once he was properly reenergized, he'd head back to the party to drag Zenitsu's sorry ass home.

He woke with a start to a strange rattling noise. Staring groggily at the door, Inosuke's half-asleep brain registered some other sound that was raising goosebumps on his arms. Oh, it was Zenitsu's crying. What a pain. But at least this saved him a trip across campus in the middle of the night. He settled back in bed and pulled the covers over his head.

Unfortunately, once the door had opened and shut and Zenitsu had tripped over at least three different things on the floor, something quite heavy fell right on top of Inosuke. His eyes flew open as he realized that one, this was not his own bed, and two, the heavy thing was Zenitsu.

"Inosuke, is that you? Oh my god, I'm so dumb and pathetic and no one will ever care about me," Zenitsu sobbed, wrapping his arms around Inosuke's torso. Gross. Inosuke squirmed but couldn't break free.

"Get off me! You smell weird," he hissed, pushing Zenitsu's face away from his to escape the pungent stench of alcohol.

"_And_ I smell weird!"

"Shut up!" Inosuke yelled hoarsely, trying to make himself heard over Zenitsu's crying without being too loud. "You're gonna wake Tanjirou up!"

"You shut up! He sleeps like a rock anyway!"

Zenitsu was apparently trying to outdo Inosuke in volume with every reply, a competition he did not appreciate at this hour. Fed up with the whole exchange, he wrenched the pillow out from under them and shoved it over Zenitsu's face to dampen the sounds. Zenitsu let go of him to press it down firmly over his own head. Though, if anything, his sobbing only worsened.

Inosuke desperately wanted to bolt to the safety of his own bed and pretend none of this was his problem, but regrettably it _was_ his problem because his roommate had lungs and he had ears. So, he reached far, far back into his memories to figure out how to stop Zenitsu's crying. Sing a lullaby? Based on previous experiences he didn't particularly care to recall, that was definitely not going to work. Rock him back and forth? As much as Zenitsu behaved like one, he wasn't physically a baby, and Inosuke wasn't quite _that_ strong.

He settled for patting Zenitsu as comfortingly as he could, though there wasn't really a good place to do that except on top of the pillow. Zenitsu's blubbering turned into choking and then into confused hiccuping when he took the pillow off his face. Unluckily for him, Inosuke didn't realize this in time and smacked him right in the face.

"Ow! What the hell? Is this how you treat your dear friend after he's had a horrible night? I'm gonna curse you! Your life will never know peace again!"

_Dear friend._ That wasn't a phrase Inosuke had ever heard before, much less directed at one of his own relationships, however drunkenly or sarcastically. Maybe it was the sleepiness, maybe it was something else, but he felt a little warm on the inside. Which translated out of his mouth into:

"Big deal. My life hasn't known peace since I met you anyway."

Ah, good. Instead of being mopey, Zenitsu was now indignant, an emotion Inosuke was much better equipped to deal with. He pressed a hand over Zenitsu's mouth to shush him; as payback, Zenitsu licked his palm.

"Where were you?" Inosuke asked quietly after the ensuing tussle had settled down and sleepiness began overtaking him once again. "Are you okay?"

"Doesn't matter," came the muffled, drowsy reply. An arm flopped over his chest. "Sleep time now."

What apparently wasn't sleep time was five in the goddamn morning, when Inosuke awoke for the second time that night to Zenitsu tumbling out of bed, one hand pressed over his mouth. He made a frantic bolt for the door, stumbling over the clothing and shoes piled on the floor. His breathing was shallow and ragged, punctuated by the unpleasant sounds of barely-stifled retching.

Uh oh. Inosuke had gotten food poisoning enough times as a kid (before he'd become immune to it, of course) to know that this wasn't going to end well. He jumped out of bed, hauled Zenitsu back onto his feet, and dragged him to the nearest bathroom.

They just barely made it in time. Inosuke wrinkled his nose as another convulsion wracked Zenitsu's body and he threw up into the toilet again. He was starting to cry.

Hesitantly, Inosuke walked back into the stall and squatted next to his roommate. He placed a hand on Zenitsu's back, feeling every shiver and hiccup, and patted gently. Zenitsu turned as if to say something, tears in his eyes, but immediately snapped his head back and dry heaved.

"What's going on?"

Inosuke let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding in. Good, Tanjirou was finally here to save the day. He took a step back and gestured at the mess on the floor that was Zenitsu. "He got food poisoning."

"Really? How are you feeling? Do you want me to go wake up the RA?"

Zenitsu glared at them, though the full strength of the glare was tempered by his ashen parlor and runny nose.

"I'm fine," he said, blatantly lying. "It's not food poisoning. _Don't_ get the RA." With that, he turned to the toilet and emptied out his stomach again. Tanjirou winced and knelt down to rub circles on Zenitsu's back and mumble some reassuring words.

Inosuke watched the scene with an odd sense of relief that he didn't need to be responsible anymore. Not that he hadn't been doing just as good of a job at being a good roommate as Tanjirou was now, but the thought of having to take care of another living person filled him with apprehension. Really, he had no idea how the old lady managed to do it.

It took a while before Zenitsu was willing to stand and walk to their room. Tanjirou left Inosuke to support him on the way back and returned with a cup of water, which Zenitsu accepted and sipped at while Tanjirou tried to make small talk.

"–and Nezuko said she finally got to pet the neighbors' cat yesterday! She sent me some pictures; hang on, let me find them."

Inosuke couldn't help staring at Zenitsu as Tanjirou scrolled through his phone and waved it at them. Zenitsu's face was still pale, the dark circles under his eyes prominent, making him look more miserable than ever before. What had happened after Inosuke had left? Who was the guy with the necklace?

It all frustrated him, and the fact that he wasn't sure _why_ it frustrated him in the first place made the ordeal that much worse.

Around lunchtime, Zenitsu crawled back into bed to go back to sleep. In a hushed whisper, Tanjirou suggested to Inosuke that they head out somewhere to eat, and he had no reason to refuse and all the reason to want to escape from the oppressive atmosphere lingering in their room. They ended up getting sandwiches at one of the cheaper places nearby that Inosuke liked, but there were too many thoughts going on in Inosuke's brain. Thanks to their distraction, his meal tasted like cardboard.

The next day, Zenitsu was still mopey and hopeless, refusing to get out of bed to do anything but eat and use the bathroom. His presence made simply being in the room unbearable, and Inosuke found himself voluntarily going to office hours over the weekend with Tanjirou.

"What happened at the party?" Tanjirou finally asked as they worked together that evening in the library. Inosuke shrugged.

"I don't know. He ditched me as soon as we got there, so I left early." The memory of Necklace Guy and the way he treated Zenitsu flashed through Inosuke's mind, and his stomach turned. He didn't bring up what he saw.

They sat silently in the study room. Tanjirou tapped his pencil on the table instead of writing as Inosuke reread the same problem over and over again. _Suppose you have a point particle of charge Q in electric field E…_

"I did tell him he smelled weird," Inosuke admitted. He had an unpleasant feeling that he shouldn't have said that that night, for some reason or another, and he clenched his jaw tightly at the regret bubbling up in him. "Do I have to apologize?"

Tanjirou stared at him, lips slightly parted, searching his face for something. He seemed to find it after a few moments because he put a hand gently on Inosuke's arm and earnestly said, "Inosuke, I don't think he's upset because you told him he smelled weird."

"Okay," Inosuke replied, a wave of relief washing over him. He really didn't want to have to apologize to Zenitsu for saying something that was true. Where would be the justice in that?

When they got back to the dorm, they were greeted with a surprising absence of Zenitsu. His bed had been neatly made, a far cry from the usual disarray in which he left it. Wherever he was, he hadn't taken his backpack, which was still lying on the floor by his desk. Inosuke nudged it with his foot as Tanjirou voiced his concerns.

"He'll be fine," Inosuke said grumpily. "It's not like he needs us to babysit him."

"True."

Inosuke spent the next hour mindlessly grinding for crafting materials in one of the many video games he'd started playing and never finished. This one was sci-fi themed, and his avatar was an awesome dual-wielding, boar-like alien mercenary. It'd been so many weeks since he'd last opened it that he didn't quite remember the plot anymore, but he wasn't invested enough in the game to refresh his memory beyond what was needed to complete the next quest.

The door to their room opened right as he exited out of the game and was considering which one to play next. He looked up from his laptop, and lo and behold, there was Zenitsu.

"Oh, you guys are back," he said. He was holding a bag from the nearby pharmacy chain store. Inosuke peered at it with curiosity.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing to it. An embarrassed look crossed Zenitsu's face.

"I wanted to dye my hair, but I've never done it before. Can you guys help me?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Tanjirou said, taking off his headphones and standing up. His back cracked a few times as he stretched. "I've helped Nezuko bleach her hair before; it's honestly not that hard. We should do it in the bathroom though, and you should change into clothes you don't care about. Do you have a spare towel?"

"Yeah. Give me a second, I'll meet you there."

Which was how Inosuke found himself watching this bizarre ritual with great fascination. Zenitsu had changed into a T-shirt he'd spilled something on last term and couldn't get the stain out of, while Tanjirou had managed to scrounge up a pair of purple gloves and was now lathering a noxious white paste into Zenitsu's hair.

"Can you open the window more, Inosuke?" Tanjirou asked, making a face as he turned away from the bleach. Inosuke immediately obliged, then leaned closer to peer at his roommate's hair. There didn't seem to be much happening yet, other than how bad it now smelled.

"Does it hurt?" he asked. Zenitsu grimaced.

"It stings a little."

"Let me know if it hurts too much," Tanjirou said, returning to his task. "Your hair's pretty thick, like Nezuko's, so it'll probably take a while to fully bleach. It's not good for your skin though, so you should rinse it out if the pain gets too bad."

Zenitsu nodded, looking apprehensive. "Is my hair gonna fall out? Am I gonna go bald? I can't go bald before I get a girlfriend. Tanjirou, you have to promise me I won't go bald."

"You're probably not gonna go bald. I don't know for sure, sorry. I've only ever bleached the ends of Nezuko's hair."

Zenitsu let out a piercing screech as Inosuke cackled and Tanjirou scolded him for wriggling in his seat.

"Can you set a timer for twenty minutes? We'll check how it looks then," Tanjirou said after Zenitsu's hair had been fully slathered in the bleach. He set the plastic container down on the sink counter. "There's still a bit left, by the way."

Inosuke was by his side in a flash. "Do my hair too."

Tanjirou blinked and glanced at Zenitsu, who just shrugged.

"Hmm, there's definitely not enough to do your whole head. Do you want streaks in your hair or bleached ends?"

Ugh. Did he have to make all the decisions around here? It didn't really matter to him either way, though if there _was_ the risk of his hair falling out, then it might as well _all_ fall out. That way he could call it a Look.

"Bleach the ends."

"Alright, same thing I told Zenitsu then. Change into clothes you don't care about and grab a spare towel."

What a pain. Inosuke pulled his shirt off and nudged Zenitsu out of the chair they'd dragged over from the kitchen. "Is this good enough?"

"Um, sure. Zenitsu, can you grab some aluminum foil? That way we can wrap the ends up and the bleach won't get all over his skin."

Zenitsu made a big fuss about it but eventually left to go do as he was told. Meanwhile, Tanjirou gingerly pulled the gloves off his hands and began inspecting Inosuke's hair.

"Do you take care of your hair at all?" Tanjirou asked. "It's so dry and tangled." To prove his point, he ran his fingers gently through Inosuke's hair. Or tried to, at least. There were too many knots to successfully perform the action; he sighed and set to work getting the worst of them out.

"I wash it," Inosuke said, shrugging. In the mirror, he could see Tanjirou squinting at the answer as if he didn't believe it. Well, the joke was on him then, because the one thing the old lady had refused to budge on after adopting him was getting him into the habit of practicing "basic hygiene."

"Do you use conditioner?"

"Do I use what?"

A look of alarm crossed over his face. Inosuke didn't see what the big deal could be. He took showers often enough, so what was there to complain about?

"What do you use to wash your hair?"

"Soap."

The light left Tanjirou's eyes, coincidentally at the same time as Zenitsu returned with a roll of foil. He glanced between them, clutching the foil tightly to his chest.

"What happened?" His voice was thick with apprehension.

"Inosuke washes his hair with soap."

"Well," Zenitsu said, pained, "that makes a lot of sense actually."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Inosuke asked indignantly.

"We're just saying that your hair might look and feel nicer if you use shampoo and conditioner instead of soap," Tanjirou said in a soothing voice. He carefully pulled the gloves back on and started massaging the remaining bleach into the ends of Inosuke's hair, wrapping each section up in aluminum foil as he went.

When he finally finished, he let out a sigh and tossed the gloves into the trash can.

"I'm going outside for a bit," he announced, checking the time on his phone. "The smell is making my head hurt. When your timer goes off, check how light your hair is and whether or not it's getting too damaged. Don't leave it in for more than forty-five minutes, okay? And try to check it every five to ten minutes. I should be back before then, but if you need anything, just text me."

With one last nod, he headed out of the bathroom. Inosuke shifted around in his seat as Zenitsu hummed, his voice resonating in the confines of the bathroom. One of their dormmates walked in and gave them a funny look before changing his mind and turning around. Inosuke didn't see what the big deal was - it wasn't like two people sitting outside the stalls was any different from two people sitting _in_ the stalls, but for some reason people were weird like that.

Zenitsu's twenty minute timer went off and he leaned close to the mirror to peer at his reflection, turning and angling his head in funny directions.

"What does it look like in the back?" he asked as he picked at a lock of hair. Inosuke glanced over.

"I dunno, I guess it's changing color. It's brown now."

As promised, Tanjirou returned before the final timers went off. By then, Zenitsu's hair was strawberry blond at the roots and a bit more coppery at the ends, and Tanjirou helped him rinse the bleach off in the sink (which involved quite a bit of amusing contortion). Water still dripping off his face, Zenitsu stood in front of the mirror and examined himself as Tanjirou took a look at Inosuke's progress.

"I think I'll leave it like this, actually. I bought some blue dye - Inosuke do you want it? Otherwise, I'll return it to the store."

Inosuke nodded, seeing no reason to refuse a free gift. Unfortunately, that meant he had to wait another hour before he could see the final result of this experiment, but it was well worth it to see himself with the unnatural color at the ends of his hair. Just like in the cartoons. And the conditioner Zenitsu forced him to use _did_ make his hair feel shiny and smooth, even if it meant he now smelled like Zenitsu.

Later that night, after their hair had dried, Tanjirou took a quick picture of them together. After a few moments' thought, Inosuke texted it to Old Lady Hisa with a quick caption. His text the night of the party had been short and blunt, and she deserved better than that. It'd make a good story for her to share with her other old lady friends, in any case.

As he laid on his bed and wound down, he zoomed in on the picture. There were faint bags under Zenitsu's eyes, but he was smiling like his pre-party self again. Inosuke still had no idea what was going on with the necklace guy, and at the thought, his stomach twisted again. With worry? And something else he couldn't quite put a finger on. Maybe food poisoning. Or maybe it was an early sign that his hair was actually going to fall out because of the bleach, just like what Tanjirou had warned might happen.

His shoulder tingled where Zenitsu's had rested against it; his hair still smelled like Zenitsu's. Zenitsu this, Zenitsu that. He buried his face in his pillow and groaned in frustration at how much space in his brain Zenitsu kept taking up. Didn't he know it was rude? Inosuke had plenty of other things he needed to think about, like what major he should declare next term and what game he wanted to start playing and whether or not he'd already done this week's reading for his History class (he hadn't).

Whatever. Sooner or later Inosuke would get to the bottom of the mystery, or he wouldn't and would just eventually get bored of it instead. Either way, it was time to sleep and see what the old lady thought about his hair the next morning. He hoped she'd be proud of the space he was making for himself here. He certainly was.

* * *

chapter illustration can be found on my tumblr (cheesecake12) post/621649845296545792

i'm. i'm so sorry it took this long to update. but here it finally is! and it's longer than the previous chapters!

the depiction in the fic is how my friends and i bleach our hair don't look at me (or maybe **do** if i'm doing it wrong... i can never get my hair light enough even when i bleach it harshly...). the art is old as heck but i wanted to prioritize making new content over editing stuff i already had... i wish i could say "look forward to the next chapter in two weeks!" but. i can't promise. i'll do my best though,,,

for more of my art (and some glimpses into my writing process/progress 👀) check out my twitter (motorproteins) and tumblr (cheesecake12)!

shoutout to kaigakuvaluesu on twitter for beta-reading!


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